


It's Not Love, Probably

by starlitcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gift Fic, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, These two are idiots and somehow it works, Unresolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/pseuds/starlitcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, I mean we really weren’t doing anything,” Oikawa whips around, “I haven’t even kissed her yet.”</p><p>Iwaizumi pushes the locker shut and looks down at his t-shirt, picking at a loose string dangling from the hem. If he tugs too hard, it’ll just ruin the stitching, so he decides to leave it alone. Right now he might rip the damn thing off.</p><p>“And I said it doesn’t matter. Why are you talkative all of the sudden?”</p><p>“Someone sounds annoyed,” Oikawa mumbles.</p><p>“No, I just…” Iwaizumi bites the inside of his cheek. Why is he annoyed? That Oikawa is talking about his girlfriend? That he saw them under the stairwell looking both guilty and flustered? That he might not know everything about his childhood best friend?</p><p>He can’t say yes to any of those questions. He can’t quite say no, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Love, Probably

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsanddistractions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsanddistractions/gifts).



> This is for Melina, my darling (IM SO SORRY ITS LATE IM TERRIBLE)
> 
> Melina has saved me more times than I can count when I was feeling down and out, and I had to do something to show how much she means to me, so happy belated bday jellybean <3

The first time Oikawa got a girlfriend, Iwaizumi didn’t really mind it.

Oikawa didn’t really talk about her, Iwaizumi never asked. They acted like she didn’t exist for the most part, until the school bell went off and Oikawa parted ways, or the few times that Iwaizumi would walk home alone after practice.

Most guys would have said something about the person they were dating, whether it be a conversation they had, or the lunch they shared, maybe even the way she laughed at some shitty joke. Oikawa’s jokes were always shitty.

But he never mentioned a thing. Oikawa Tooru, who paraded about the smallest of things like a damn peacock, never talked about the one thing he should have been boasting about for hours on end.

Even after the breakup, all Oikawa had to say was “things just didn’t workout” and Iwaizumi took it and ran. Things went back to normal after that, with Oikawa hanging on Iwaizumi 24/7, nagging him on the walks to and from school, sending him texts filled with emojis.

Iwaizumi began to wonder if Oikawa even liked the girl he went out with, he didn’t show an ounce of sadness, regret, the usual emotions linked to a breakup that most people wallowed in for a period of time. Oikawa didn’t even bat an eye, he just dove back into the way things used to be.

Iwaizumi actually got to talk to the second girlfriend. She was louder, not obnoxiously so, but she liked to make everyone aware of her presence, Iwaizumi noticed.

“So _this_ is the famous Iwa-chan, huh?” her smile went from ear to ear and Iwaizumi could see what Oikawa latched onto. Cute dimples and a button nose, She was sporty, tall and lean and flawless skin—popular, just like Oikawa. They looked like a power couple. Well, if a power couple spent hardly any time together that is.

Oikawa was still the same. He’d never talk about her, even though Iwaizumi _knew_ this one had stories to tell.

Oikawa only talked to Iwaizumi about her once.

After Iwaizumi caught the two of them pressed against a wall underneath a stairwell.

“We’re not really like that,” Oikawa mutters against the fabric of his jersey before he pulls it over his head.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, she is your girlfriend.” Iwaizumi can’t figure out why it is so fucking awkward to talk about something completely normal to the one person he can tell anything. Right now he doesn’t feel like talking, or breathing. He’s inexplicably annoyed, even more so when he hears Oikawa rattle off excuses in the quiet of the locker room.

“No, I mean we really weren’t doing anything,” Oikawa whips around, “I haven’t even kissed her yet.”

Iwaizumi pushes the locker shut and looks down at his t-shirt, picking at a loose string dangling from the hem. If he tugs too hard, it’ll just ruin the stitching, so he decides to leave it alone. Right now he might rip the damn thing off.

“And I said it doesn’t matter. Why are you talkative all of the sudden?”

“Someone sounds annoyed,” Oikawa mumbles.

“No, I just…” Iwaizumi bites the inside of his cheek. Why is he annoyed? That Oikawa _is_ talking about his girlfriend? That he saw them under the stairwell looking both guilty and flustered? That he might not know everything about his childhood best friend?

He can’t say yes to any of those questions. He can’t quite say no, either.

“Rough day,” Iwaizumi sighs. He isn’t lying, entirely. These muddled thoughts are giving him a headache, knotting stress in his shoulders. He can tell Oikawa how he feels. He doesn’t have to tell him why.

“Okay then,” Oikawa side steps him and tugs on his shirt to follow, “I’ll toss to you extra.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

It wasn’t like Iwaizumi tried to pay more attention to Oikawa. It just sort of happened. He’d glance at him from the side while they’d walk to school. And he noticed little things in between the small glances. Iwaizumi always kept himself in check from staring too long. Oikawa was perceptive, he’d pick up on it if Iwaizumi slipped.

His profile was sharp, from the tip of his nose to the curve of his jawline, head held high and eyes forward. Confident.

Oikawa almost always whistled or hummed while he walked, Iwaizumi had gotten used to that a long time ago, but now he paid attention to the way Oikawa pushes his lips out, soft, pink, not a crack to be found. Iwaizumi watched the way Oikawa walked; long strides, a light spring in his step if he was in high spirits, so graceful it was almost irritating. It was just fucking walking, why did Oikawa look so good doing it?

It didn’t stop there, either. Iwaizumi noticed him more at school, the way he stood a head above many, poster boy smile spread across his lips and metaphoric halo floating above his head. And everyone soaks him in like morning sunshine.

He decides he likes the way Oikawa laughs. Not that poised laughter that he gives when his fan club breezes by with a new banner or drops off his daily gift at his classroom, no. It’s the laugh that climbs the music scale and turns Oikawa’s cheeks red, and when he tries to muffle it he snickers behind his hand. Iwaizumi likes the way Oikawa smiles. Not that plastic grin he gives to teachers in the hallways, but the stretch of pearly white across his face when his serve lands where he wants it to. Or the way it pulls lopsided when feeling smug. When he snags his lip between his teeth because he’s actually feeling bashful.

Iwaizumi’s stomach drops when he catches the wild look in Oikawa’s eyes, fire that burns hungry and scorches Iwaizumi’s thoughts into nothing but silence. His heart squeezes when Oikawa’s eyes fall half lidded from exhaustion, and his voice is thick with sleep, and the only thing keeping him awake is the sway in his step and Iwaizumi’s shoulder to keep him upright.

At first it was a challenge to keep Oikawa out of his head. Now, it was just impossible.

Iwaizumi thought about him way too much. He noticed every bit of him, from the way he talked to the way he moved. His scent lingered on Iwaizumi after he would drape himself across his shoulders. His touch felt like fire when nimble fingers passed across his knuckle bed and forearms.

Only Oikawa could do it, though.

“You let Oikawa-kun hang all over you, but you say you’re not a touchy person?”

Iwaizumi bites his cheek. “Oikawa is Oikawa,” he shrugs, “I can’t get rid of him.”

The whole childhood best friend excuse seems to work. Besides, Iwaizumi doesn’t want anyone else to touch him. Not the way Oikawa does. A hand on his back after a hard day of practice as a sign of good job. Or after a loss, _you’re not alone_. A head on his shoulder late at night when studying becomes sleepily blinking at pages and hoping for words to make sense. Arms draped around him with the excuse of “I’m tired” and it goes without saying that Oikawa just does it because he can.

He touches Iwaizumi because he can.

When he’s single.

“Does Oikawa-san have a girlfriend?”

Iwaizumi only heard that question about once every week, maybe twice. He didn’t have it in him to be rude, though these girls were starting to piss him off. He couldn’t blame them, either. His answer was always the same.

“Who knows.”

It dawned on Iwaizumi after the fifth ask that he was never the first to hear about Oikawa getting into a relationship. He always heard it through the grapevine, and Oikawa just sort of shifted his schedule, and both of them had a silent conversation about it whenever Oikawa would say “don’t wait up for me, kay?”

And as always, Iwaizumi would resume walking home alone.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“I thought you really liked this one,” Iwaizumi says on the walk home, glancing over at Oikawa.

Oikawa pulls his fingers through his hair and tousles chestnut locks. It’s disgusting that he can mess with his hair like that and somehow it still looks photoshoot ready.

Iwaizumi balls his fists into his pockets. A sensation trickles into his palms before he squelches it. He’s not allowed to touch Oikawa like that, it doesn’t work that way.

“Yeah well, I just can’t deal with commitment to much else right now.”

“You mean, she couldn’t?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, “even if I’m not in tears about it, it still sucks to say _I got dumped_.”

“But you did _get dumped_.”

“I can’t tell who is worse. You, or Takeru,” Oikawa rolls his eyes skyward. He leaves them there to look at the stars. There aren’t that many, even they aren’t in some giant city, there is still enough light pollution in Miyagi to dwindle out what could be something beautiful to look at.

“Why don't you ever talk about them?” Iwaizumi suddenly asks, staring at his shoes, extending his steps across the lines in the concrete because focusing on that keeps him from acting like his question has any more purpose than just _making conversation._

Oikawa shifts his bag against his shoulder and looks away from the sky, his tone teasing. “I didn't want you to be jealous that no one likes you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi knows that isn't the reason, at least, not all of it. What the real reason is, he has no idea, and the explanations he can come up with put an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, so he let's the topic drop and continues to walk in silence. He'd be better off not knowing anyway.

“Can I come over today?” Oikawa suddenly asks.

“I thought you were going to already?”

“I never said I was,” Oikawa grins, “you wanted me to come over that bad, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi stays quiet. If that were true, he wouldn’t have so many questions bottled up in the back of his mind, pressed into the furthest corners so he could act like he never wanted to ask them in the first place. They weren’t all questions about the girlfriends, though. Some of them were selfish.

Questions like, how would he tell Oikawa he can’t stop staring at him? What does it feel like to hold Oikawa’s hand? Would Oikawa kiss him if he kissed back?

Sure, there were millions more, some sweet, some lewd, and Iwaizumi locked them all away in hopes they would just vanish someday.

Oikawa walks into Iwaizumi’s house like he lives there. Well, it is his second home in a way. “I get to shower first!”

Good thing Iwaizumi stayed quiet. Lately when Oikawa comes over, Iwaizumi’s heart races about it. It didn’t use to be that way, but when you suddenly realize you’re in love with your best friend, things change.

Love.

Hilarious.

It’s not love, probably. More like… comfort.

Iwaizumi can’t. He won’t. Admitting that the anvil in his chest is all thanks to some shitty, played up emotion that girls gush about in relationships. The four letter word that people toss around closer to Valentine’s day. Iwaizumi doesn’t know what that is. He doesn’t want to give Oikawa chocolate and snuggle up to him and share lunch. That’s gross. He wrinkles his nose at the thought.

No, he wants something different. He wants to hear Oikawa laugh so hard his eyes turn glassy and sides ache. He wants to see the look on Oikawa’s face when he gives Iwaizumi a perfect toss, their quick going undefeated. Iwaizumi wants to feel calloused, bandaged fingers and scarred knuckles beneath his own, and wonder if milk bread would taste better if he kissed Oikawa instead. He wants to know what it would feel like to draw shapes along the contours of Oikawa’s back, the same back that looks broad and strong when he’s being a captain, and small when the weight of being perfect creeps up on him.

He wants to know what Oikawa tastes like after he’s been under the sun, what he looks like when he rolls out of sleep but he didn’t sleep alone. What he would sound like if Iwaizumi could unravel him to the rawest bit of his core and drink him in.

Iwaizumi wonders if any of those previous girlfriends got to do the things he wants to, and a bitter taste floods his mouth when he remembers spotting a box of condoms shoved messily into Oikawa’s bedside drawer.

One of them might have.

Iwaizumi will never get to.

“Iwa-chan, your turn,” Oikawa plops himself on Iwaizumi’s bed, damp hair stuck to his forehead and his neck, dressed in one of Iwaizumi’s ratty t-shirts and some shorts.

Iwaizumi feels slightly better, knowing that at least Oikawa hasn’t worn anyone else’s clothing.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The first time Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa, it was an accident. He didn’t mean to, really.

That’s a lie, he meant every bit of it, he just didn’t want Oikawa to react like he’d been electrocuted.

Oikawa draped himself across Iwaizumi’s shoulders and claimed “I need a recharge hug,” and before Iwaizumi could talk his self control back into place, he had gripped Oikawa by his jaw and crashed their lips together clumsily. He was tired of resisting, and he was tired of seeing Oikawa do this with people he never kept.

In that moment Iwaizumi thought, he might not be one of those girlfriends, but he’s closer than they’ll ever be. Oikawa always sticks around him, right?

It only happened for a split second, and when the rush was over, Iwaizumi’s high plummeted through the floor beneath his sneakers as his cheeks went red and coherent words escaped him. “Sorry,” He apologized, the only word he could think to give Oikawa as consolation for his screw up. He’d gone and done it now, Oikawa would give him the cold look, probably a cold shoulder, the quiet “I’m not like that.”

Then Oikawa kissed him back. He pressed him hard against the metal locker and silently cursed as they tripped over a water bottle, spilling it everywhere and ignoring it all the same as they attacked each other with teeth and tongue and something visceral that spread liquid fire across their skin, running through veins under t-shirts tugged and torn at.

Iwaizumi felt himself heave into the stars as fireworks went off behind his eyes and butterflies danced about in his stomach, and God if it weren’t for the sound of Oikawa breathing his name in like it was all he could do, he might have come to his senses sooner to end this mistake.

It was better than he’d imagined it, Oikawa tasting like diluted sugar and soft, lips pliant enough that Iwaizumi could tug at them the way he wanted, hands thrown into Oikawa’s hair and pressing him down against the bench because standing only worked when you could feel your knees.

As if they didn’t have enough pent up sexual tension— _apparently_ , by the way Oikawa slid into his lap and tugged hard enough at his shirt that it might tear—Iwaizumi dug fingertips into the expanse of skin across Oikawa’s stomach, and he could almost melt away every thought telling him not to do this.

Until a hard cough and the sound of metal being clapped startled the both of them still.

Kunimi stood in the walkway, eyes towards the ground and bag slung across his shoulder.

Of course, they looked guilty, Kunimi had seen more than he needed to, with Oikawa straddled across Iwaizumi’s lap and looking both red and disheveled. Iwaizumi briefly thought he looked amazing, but he could think about that later.

“I uh, forgot my phone,” Kunimi pivots on his heel and heads for the exit. “Coach is on his way, so. G’night.”

Iwaizumi comes to his senses. More like they come flying into him at mach speed and nearly make him dizzy as he scrambles out from underneath Oikawa and hastily grabs his shit, stuffing it into his duffle.

“Iwa-chan—”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Iwaizumi snaps without looking at him. “Forget it happened.”

“Oh,” Oikawa nods, lips tight in a thin line. “Okay.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Oikawa gives him a small smile, and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ll...leave first,” Iwaizumi darts from the locker room, shoving hands into his pockets and keeping his head down, cursing himself for slipping, for telling Oikawa “hey I really like you, I think” by way of sucking on his tongue until he turned as red as a cherry. They can’t just go back to the way things were, right?

Or, Iwaizumi underestimates Oikawa sometimes.

He went about like nothing ever happened. Well, almost like it never happened. They still walked together, and sat with Makki and Mattsun at lunch, and practiced the same. But Oikawa’s hands never reached for him, he never called Iwaizumi’s name in that whiny voice he usually did. He stopped asking for those recharging hugs. He stopped telling him about his day.

Just like one of those girlfriends. Post break up where Oikawa would act like nothing had ever happened.

Damn, Iwaizumi felt irritated. It was his fault, he kissed Oikawa first. He told Oikawa to forget about it, pushed him away until the tremors in his hands ceased and his lungs opened up.

So Oikawa listened to him. Kept his hands to himself, treated him like Iwaizumi wanted.

If Iwaizumi had just kept his hands to himself, he wouldn’t feel like he were drowning in his own thoughts trapped under a heavy air of unresolved feelings.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“What the hell kind of spike was that?” Hanamaki snaps from behind Iwaizumi, quiet enough to keep it from the coach, but still within earshot of Aoba Jousai’s ace.

Iwaizumi can’t combat him, it _was_ terrible. He lost all power at the last second and watched the damn ball drop right against Matsukawa’s hands. Something Iwaizumi would _never_ do.

And what excuse could he give? “Sorry guys, I’m just not feeling it today because I can’t look my best friend in the eyes anymore. Why? I kind of shoved my tongue down his throat in the locker room.”

Instead, Iwaizumi just focused on practice. His power came back. His accuracy, however, did not.

“Iwa-chan, maybe you should sit out today.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Iwaizumi snaps, “just quit tossing it so low.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you would jump higher.” Oikawa says it gently, more because he’s actually right, but still, the edge in his voice pisses off Iwaizumi even more.

Even three, four, five more times after, Iwaizumi just frustrates himself. He’s not concentrated at all, his heart is racing, and he can feel Oikawa staring at him with several questions and a little bit of blame.

“Quit staring at me like that and just _toss_.”

“Mm… nope,” Oikawa rolls the ball between his fingers, “you’re done for the day.”

“ _You_ don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not going to toss to you like this, you’re not in it today,” Oikawa glances up at him.

“Er, Iwaizumi-san, maybe you should just work on receives instead?” Kindaichi is to his left, eyes shifting between captain and vice captain.

It’s painfully obvious that these two are fighting. Well, if fighting is passive-aggressively coexisting on the same side of the court.

Iwaizumi doesn’t make a point to argue any further. He keeps his back turned to Oikawa and gets through practice without him. He goes home without him. And he thinks about him until the sun comes up.

“Rough week?” Kunimi asks in the locker room, watching Iwaizumi tug and pull on his shirt like the more he does it the less uncomfortable he’ll feel.

“More like rough _month_ ,” he snarls.

“You two are acting like children,” Kunimi mutters, reaching forward to pick his bottle off of the bench. “My advice, let Yahaba-san toss to you today.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t take it.

He should have.

“Damn it, Oikawa, would you quit giving me shitty tosses?!”

“When you start acting like a real player, I might,” Oikawa retorts.

Iwaizumi curls his fist into the green penny. “What’s with you?!”

“That’s rich,” Oikawa snorts, and leans back prying Iwaizumi’s hand away from him and reaching to pick up the ball. “Just do your job, Iwa-chan. I’ll toss higher this time.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“The hell is your problem lately?” Iwaizumi asks quietly when the locker room is empty save for the two of them.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Oikawa repeats, “right?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, and before he can react, Oikawa has a hand curled in his shirt and slams him against the metal locker so hard he goes dizzy. Iwaizumi can’t think about the throbbing on the back of his skull because by now, there is a mouth on his and prying his jaw open enough to attack his tongue.

A surge of pleasure shoots from Iwaizumi’s core to every edge of his body. There it is again, the hint of sugar and the smooth glide of Iwaizumi’s tongue across Oikawa’s bottom lip. He groans when Oikawa draws blunt nails beneath his shirt across his skin and slides their bodies together like they’ve been doing this forever. Like it should be done. Iwaizumi’s hands slide around Oikawa’s waist to pull him snug tight and close the gap. Oikawa smiles crookedly against his mouth, lips pulling away and diving for his throat.

“Oikawa—”

“What am I to you, exactly?”

The words sound hollow and cold, irony to Oikawa’s hot breath fanning against his skin. “When did you decide to make me your stress relief?”

Nausea swirls in the pit of Iwaizumi’s stomach, putting out the small flame and jumbling words that Iwaizumi could use in defense. He can’t be hearing this right now, not from Oikawa.

“You want to know what my problem is, Iwa-chan? That _this_ , is so easy for you, with me. That _this_ , doesn’t mean anything, with me. You want this, just not _me_. That’s pretty fucking low.” Oikawa steps back and reaches for his duffle, slinging it across his shoulder.

Iwaizumi tries to reach for him, unsure of what to say, but maybe if Oikawa could see the mortified look on his face he wouldn’t walk away.

“I’ll be your setter. We’ll leave it at that. Fair?”

“Oikawa—wait a second, that’s not—!”

Oikawa is out the door without another word. Iwaizumi waits until the tremors in his chest calm down, and his legs feel light enough to drag home.

Oikawa thinks he used him. Iwaizumi is irrevocably in love with his best friend, and he thinks he used him like some kind of stress relief, pity fuck. Iwaizumi knows what Oikawa is thinking right now, probably. Why didn’t he just get into a relationship? Because Oikawa was right there, so it made things easy. Because Oikawa would touch him and lean on him without giving it any thought. Because Oikawa trusted him more than anyone else.

Iwaizumi stares at his ceiling for the majority of the night, playing it over in his head.

Oikawa probably hates him now.

It’s not like Iwaizumi had a shot at love anyway, but he went ahead and botched up a good friendship over it.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa doesn’t even look at him the next day.

Or the day after that.

For the rest of that week, really.

Iwaizumi peeks into his classroom on a Wednesday, sees him surrounded by smiling faces. His gut wrenches when one of said smiling classmates curls an arm around him casually, like it’s no big deal, and Oikawa lets him, like it’s no big deal.

Iwaizumi gets Oikawa to look at him once, twice even. Once, when they both land a quick that actually is an improvement, and they both are about to slip from composure and cheer at each other, until they remember they’re not supposed to acknowledge one another’s existence.

The second time is in the hallways.

“Does the nickname _Iwa-chan_ bother you?”

“Of course it does,” Iwaizumi puffs, “it’s a childhood thing though… so I guess, not as much as I thought.”

“What if we called you that?”

“Don’t,” Iwaizumi snips, too quickly.

“Aw, don’t be stingy, _Iwa-chan_.”

Iwaizumi picks his head up to call them out on it, and Oikawa is ten feet from him with his hands wrapped around a notebook and his eyes sharp.

Oikawa’s timing is impeccable, and the universe hates Iwaizumi more than he thought it did.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you feel?” Kunimi asks over his straw, eyes unmoving from the book splayed open on his desk. “Of course he’s going to take it the wrong way. You did one thing and said another.”

“I just thought...that maybe…”

“That he’d figure it out?”

“When you say that...what do you mean,” Iwaizumi stares down at his lap.

Kunimi slowly sets down his juice and folds the book closed. “You two are dumber than I thought. Just talk to him. You know him better than all of us combined anyway. And when you two are done pouting, let us all know. Practice is God awful.”

Iwaizumi slightly laughs.

“Iwaizumi-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, don’t come into the classroom.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s irritating to deal with a million questions about our team’s ace,” Kunimi sighs, eyes flickering past Iwaizumi and back. Iwaizumi takes a peek over his shoulder, a huddled bunch of first years all with big eyes darting between each other and back to him, looking somewhere between starstruck and petrified.

“Sorry.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

It’s a Thursday. It’s been almost two weeks.

Oikawa doesn’t show up for school that day, and it doesn’t take Iwaizumi more than a second to know why.

“You know where he is?”

“He’s sick,” Iwaizumi says.

He must be really bad. Oikawa wouldn’t skip even through a low grade fever. Iwaizumi remembers chewing Oikawa out for staying awake a solid 48 hours and _still_ coming to school like death wasn’t floating behind him, waiting for him to drop in the middle of class.

“Can you bring these to him?” A classmate asks, handing Iwaizumi a folder.

Oh. Right. Iwaizumi is the best friend. Everyone assumes he’s probably going to stop by Oikawa’s place later today anyway.

“Oikawa must be dying,” Hanamaki wipes the sweat from his cheek, watching Yahaba converse with Kindaichi and Watari. “You two still on bad terms?”

“I dunno,” Iwaizumi mutters.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, Matsukawa agreed to drop off his notes if you don’t want to.”

“What?”

“Oikawa texted him,” Hanamaki nods.

Iwaizumi tries not to let Hanamaki know he’s near seething right about now. He would rather get his notes from Mattsun, who lives in the opposite direction? They’re just some damn notes! Iwaizumi doesn’t even have to see him face to face, he could just drop them off with Oikawa’s parents, or his sister!

He’s had it. he’s had enough of acting like Oikawa isn’t around. He is tired of not looking him in the eye and whipping him across the head when he says something silly. Or feeling arms wrap around him and a sing song “Iwa-chan” trickling in his ear. He misses walking to school with him and admiring his side profile, or walking home and watching him stare at the stars, or even walking by the classroom and seeing Oikawa light up when they make eye contact. He misses having Oikawa sprawled out across his bed, wearing his shitty clothing and somehow making it look good.

He flies out faster than the speed of sound when practice is over, telling both Makki and Mattsun that he’ll drop the notes off, it makes no sense for either of them to do it.

When he gets to the door, he shifts his weight back and forth, finger hovering over the doorbell. Usually he would walk right in, but he hasn’t seen the Oikawa residence since the fight, and it wouldn’t feel right to just intrude on terms like these.

What will he say? Will he drop off the notes and leave? What if Oikawa answers the door himself? How is he feeling? Maybe Iwaizumi should have brought a gift. Or an ice pack. Medicine? Oikawa’s favorite snack?

“Why are you standing at the door?”

Iwaizumi nearly jumps out of his skin.

In all of his panic about whether or not he should have brought something more than just his anxiety and some class notes, he hadn’t heard the door open. It completely slipped Iwaizumi’s mind that they had a camera to the doorway.

Takeru is staring at him with wide eyes and a hand on the door, popsicle stick clenched between his teeth.

“Should I tell him you’re—”

“No. Uhm, Where is he?”

“In his room, wrapped in a bunch of blankets like this,” Takeru folds his hands over his head to pantomime what Oikawa would look like bundled up.

“How bad is his fever?”

“He’s been asleep all day on and off. Mom made him soup earlier I think, so at least he ate,” Takeru bounces from his left foot to his right, looking down at the folder in Iwaizumi’s hands. “Well, are you coming in or not?”

Iwaizumi almost loses his nerve. He wonders if he should just try again later.

“Are you two still fighting?”

“We’re not fi—” Takeru shoots him the signature Oikawa look. The one that says _skip the bullshit_. For someone who doesn’t have too many features in common with his uncle, they sure do have similar expressions. That particular one runs in the entire family,

“You know how to get there,” Takeru steps to the side and gestures inward. “He’s really lame, but he’s still my uncle. So, if you could make him stop moping around that’d be great.”

“Imagine if he heard you say that…” Iwaizumi mutters as he kicks off his shoes.

“Mom says if I’m too nice to him his ego will get bigger, It’s like a free pass to pick on him,” Takeru grins over the popsicle stick and shuts the door, bouncing up the stairs towards Oikawa’s room.

Oikawa swears up and down he and his nephew are nothing alike but Iwaizumi will fight tooth and nail to say otherwise. Oikawa was just as much of a brat. Probably worse.

“Oi! Tooru, you’ve got a visitor!” Takeru raps his knuckles against the door. He spins around and looks at Iwaizumi, before he darts back down the staircase.

“Takeru… I’m _sick_ you’re not supposed to bring them up here!” Oikawa whines weakly on the other side of the door.

Iwaizumi’s heart feels like a damn jackhammer against his chest plate, and his head is throbbing, his legs feel like jelly as his hand reaches to push the door open. All that keeps running through his head is the horrible reaction out of Oikawa that he’s going to get when he realizes it’s not Matsukawa at the door.

But still, he convinced himself it was time to stop arguing with his best friend and patch up whatever they had left to keep.

“Takeru don’t— !” Oikawa’s broken voice dies off with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

Iwaizumi admits, he looks like shit. His eyes are bloodshot, his nose is about the same shade, the bags under his eyes are terrifying and there are so many damn tissues collected in front of him he might as well have gone through three boxes already.

“What are you doing here?”

Iwaizumi waves the folder in front of him.

“You can leave them on the desk and go—”

“If you think I’m only here to drop of notes, Oikawa, you are worse than I thought.”

“I’m sure you have other reasons. I just don’t care,” Oikawa sounds nasally through his dismissal, and Iwaizumi might have laughed if this weren’t about him coming clean on the mishap two weeks ago.

“Quit lying,” Iwaizumi pushes the door shut and sets the notes down on the desk anyway, before he comes back to Oikawa. “This place is a mess. Though, you’ve never been good at handling yourself when you’re sick.”

Oikawa stays silent, glaring out from his cocoon as Iwaizumi sits down before him.

“The whole reason we’re fighting is ridiculous,” Iwaizumi mutters.

“ _That_ is your intro line? I know there are people in this world that can’t be smooth, but you are by far the absolute worst—”

“Will you let me talk?” Iwaizumi growls.

“I _shouldn’t_. But because I’m actually a nice person, by all means. Continue,” Oikawa tucks himself further into the blankets to mask his shivering. He’s cold. Iwaizumi couldn’t have picked a better time to do this, but _sooner rather than later_ sounds better than _waiting for the right moment_. Besides, Iwaizumi is no good in situations like these. He can’t think about it, he just has to do it.

“It was a misunderstanding, Oikawa, back then, I never meant to make you feel like…” He doesn’t want to say it. “Stress relief,” he words it as carefully as he can, ignoring the sound Oikawa makes in his throat. He watches Oikawa wince, probably from his throat being sore. That’s karma for being cheeky.

“I’ll admit, I got swept up in the atmosphere of it all.”

“What’s your point?”

“Oikawa—”

“If you’re here to give me roundabout excuses then get out. You owe me more than that. So out with it. Why’d you do it?”

Iwaizumi feels his scalp prickle and his throat dry out. Oikawa’s eyes are cold, jaw set and hands balled into fists in the fabric around him, fighting off the shivers rippling across his spine. Iwaizumi isn’t sure how to put it, what he wants to say. How does he tell Oikawa all of the reasons why he wanted to kiss him that day? Or the next time after that? It would take him an hour at least to explain just the beginning bits.

He came all this way on impulse, angry that Oikawa would ask Matsukawa to go out of his way versus trying to attempt to make up with Iwaizumi instead, and now he’s here with a whole lot to say and all of it jumbled into a knot in his throat.

He could just ramble until he runs out of breath. He kissed Oikawa because he feels like sunshine and tastes like honey. He kissed Oikawa because he wanted to know what it would be like to forget the world and sit amongst the stars for a few seconds, in that space Oikawa always stares at and dreams into. He kissed him because he’ll never let anyone else call him “Iwa-chan”or fold their arms around him and play with his tie at school, because he doesn’t want anyone else to wear his beat up band tees and leave their scent across his pillow.

Iwaizumi could tell Oikawa all of that and more, talk his ear off about how disgusting his affection is, how Oikawa intruded into his thoughts more and more from first year til now,

Or he could stop lying to the both of them and sum it up in three simple words.

“I love you.”

Iwaizumi’s chest feels lighter than ever, and Kunimi pops into his head for a split second. That guy is too smart for his own good. He really should have done this ages ago.

Oikawa sits in silence for what feels like an eternity. Iwaizumi is begging for him to say something, anything. When he doesn’t, he figures Oikawa is waiting for something more than that.

“You wanted the reason. There it is. I love you. I have loved you, I think. I’m not sure when it started, but it just got worse the more time went by, and I just lost my cool that day.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose and leans back. “So you told me it didn’t mean anything?”

“I panicked. I thought you were going to—”

“You big idiot, I kissed you back.”

“I panicked,” Iwaizumi repeats, at a loss for any other defense. “I just figured you were caught in it.”

“You _assumed_ I would figure it out. Iwa-chan I’m not a Goddamn mind reader,” Oikawa scoffs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “That hurt, y’know. A lot. The first time I thought, I’ve been waiting for this. It wasn’t the way I wanted, but I wasn’t going to complain,” Oikawa mumbles, pausing to sniffle.

“I tried to date other people so badly, I prayed I might fall for them hard enough. I feel awful for it.”

“Why?”

“I always picked one that reminded me of you. I know, it sounds bad. I didn’t consciously _try_ to, it just happened. I’d find myself thinking, Iwa-chan has a cute nose and dimples just like that, and then suddenly I couldn’t be with them anymore, it just felt wrong,” Oikawa shrugs.

Iwaizumi feels heat crawl up his neck and flood his cheeks.

“I guess, we both messed up then,” Oikawa slowly admits. “I refused to admit I was in love with you for the longest time. And by the time I did, you went ahead and said _it doesn’t mean anything_. God!”

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi shifts forward and stares at Oikawa expectantly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Oikawa frowns.

“You just… we just… we just said we love each other and neither of us have burst into flames.”

Oikawa screws up his face, and Iwaizumi mimics him, and they both sit and assess why they aren’t blushing madly or getting all teary eyed. It feels like they’ve been this way all along, almost, like they just kind of went throughout high school never vocalizing the way they feel, just sort of rolling with it.

And it dawns on them that these two might have just fallen for each other around the same time, and both thought the same thing,

Oikawa scoots forward and drops his head onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi responds by pulling Oikawa further into his lap and curling the blankets around the both of them, feeling Oikawa shiver as the fabric moves. “Cold?”

“Freezing,” Oikawa whispers.

“ I can stay over.”

“Mhm,” Oikawa agrees, bleary eyes rolling shut when Iwaizumi’s warm hands rest along his back.

“Hey, Oikawa.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Iwaizumi mumbles, nuzzling into Oikawa’s temple. It’s a lie. he was thinking about it, but he knows Oikawa doesn’t exactly like to apologize. If Iwaizumi does, he’ll have to reciprocate. “Did you really ask Matsukawa to come all the way out here instead of me? Over homework? You must have been really upset.”

Oikawa tilts back and looks at Iwaizumi with a crooked twist in his mouth and an eyebrow cocked upward. “I didn’t ask Mattsun. I just said I would get everything tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi bites down on the inside of his cheek. Those two fuckers lied straight to his face to send him over here. The team must have been really tired of their quarrel. “Those conniving…maybe we should thank them for once. Sent you here running, apology and confession all at once,” Oikawa snickers.

“At first I was coming to kick your ass, but I can’t fight the sick and dying.”

“ _Wow_ , so kind of you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s laugh is soft and quiet, contrary to the light, honey sweet sound he usually makes. The rasp in his throat sucks out the energy, but makes Oikawa look about ten times cuter, with his red nose and teary eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and you can sleep,” Iwaizumi offers, thinking to wrap Oikawa up and place him on the bed.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Oikawa argues, “I want to talk. We’re doing this confession thing really ass backwards.”

Iwaizumi draws little patterns in the small of Oikawa’s back, lips hovering on the shell of his ear. “We did everything ass backwards,” he sighs, “I’m newer to this than you are, so what should we do?”

Oikawa nibbles on his lip in thought, fatigue rolling over his eyes as Iwaizumi’s body heat begins to work wonders on his muscles. Iwaizumi was right, sleep does sound kind of nice. “Well, if we take a look at how we’ve done things, we should probably have some sort of _wrap it up_ kiss, right?”

“When you’re not running a fever, we’ll do that,” Iwaizumi grins, and presses his lips gently to Oikawa’s forehead. It acts as both a kiss and measure of how bad his fever is, but with the way Oikawa melts into his touch, he keeps it in the back of his mind to do these little butterfly kisses more often.

“Then let’s… talk about what we missed,” Oikawa offers, “all of it. Not just the two weeks, but everything.”

“Everything?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa nods his head, “From the very start, how we felt, what we thought, those stupid little attempts we made at each other that didn’t work... _everything_.”

Iwaizumi reaches to pull his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, tousling it beneath his palm and moving bangs away from his eyes. His Oikawa, with warm eyes and a lopsided smile. His Oikawa, that tastes like sunshine and sugar. Iwaizumi can say that now, _his_.

Some part of him feels giddy about the new way of calling Oikawa. Another part feels like it should have been doing it forever ago. Because this all feels so natural, so easy, like all they were missing was just the mutual label. Like they’d been fools in love this entire time finally figured it out.

Iwaizumi is so glad they did.

“Where should I start?”

  
  


  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I uh... I'm gonna go combust in a corner now  
> I hope you all enjoyed this!
> 
> reach me at [tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tendousatori) !!


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